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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27354262">blinded by the lights</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/NatureGirl202/pseuds/NatureGirl202'>NatureGirl202</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Jason Todd is Robin, Smol Jason Todd, a study in how many times the author can refer to jason as "the boy", also the continuing saga of nat not knowing how to end things, anti-fanny packs, unedited</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 02:14:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,407</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27354262</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/NatureGirl202/pseuds/NatureGirl202</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce takes Jason to his first fair. It doesn't go exactly as planned.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jason Todd &amp; Bruce Wayne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>71</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>blinded by the lights</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>warning for nongraphic vomit.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What is <em>that</em>?”</p>
<p>Bruce blinks, pauses before closing the driver’s door, and turns his attention to where Jason stands at his side by the car. The boy’s brow is furrowed and he’s pointing accusingly at Bruce’s waist. He glances down. “A fanny pack.”</p>
<p>There’s a long enough pause that Bruce is starting to really think he’s missing out on something, when Jason is suddenly pivoting on his heel and grabbing the handle to the back car door. “Nope.” The door’s open and Jason’s sliding cleanly into the seat and closing the door behind him. Bruce takes a moment to absorb this odd behavior, before closing his own door and tapping his knuckles lightly on Jason’s window. He watches the vague outline of Jason through the tint as he reaches for the button to slide down the window, before realizing the car’s been off too long for that to work. The car is also unlocked, so Bruce could honestly just open the door himself, but he has a firm rule with himself about not forcing himself onto Jason. Although it’s been nearly five months since he took the boy in, his trust is still fragile. So, if a door is to be opened, Jason needs to be the one to do it. It had been a somewhat difficult thing for Bruce to get used to. It involved giving up a certain amount of control which meant giving up a certain aspect of his nature. Also, he’d gotten used to Dick who, until the last couple of years at the manor at least, had a fairly open-door policy.</p>
<p>The car door cracks open. Bruce takes a risk and nudges it open enough to see half of Jason’s face, who’s currently glaring at him—or, more accurately, the fanny pack.</p>
<p>“What’s wrong?” he sounds a bit more demanding than intended, but thankfully if Jason has learned anything during his stay with them, it’s that Bruce’s tone does not always equate to his intentions.</p>
<p>“I’m not being seen with that.”</p>
<p>“The… fanny pack?” A sharp nod and crossing of the boy’s arms over his chest are the only response he gets. His brow is squished unhappily and lips pushed forward in a pout. It’s kind of cute, but Bruce knows better than to admit that. “Why?”</p>
<p>“It’s <em>lame</em>, Bruce.”</p>
<p>“It’s useful” he argues, and then tacks on: “It’s Alfred’s.”</p>
<p>This, apparently, is not the winning argument he’d thought it was, because Jason gives a dramatic groan and flops backwards so he’s lying across the backseat. Bruce has to duck to keep his eyeline on Jason’s face. “That thing’s probably fifty years old!”</p>
<p>Bruce does not, actually, know how old the fanny pack is. He does, however, know this is a diversionary tactic for Jason, an attempt to take attention away from his nerves. Jason’s approach to new experiences tends to wildly ricochet between abundant excitement and poorly suppressed nerves. Bruce hasn’t quite figured out the pattern yet so that he could always predict which will come about, so he adds this to the “nerves” category for later study.</p>
<p>He sighs after a moment of debate, deciding he is not nearly attached enough to the fanny pack to pursue an argument with Jason. He plucks the essentials he’d stored in the pack, before unclipping it from his back and unceremoniously tossing it onto the passenger seat. “There. Can we go now?”</p>
<p>Jason blinks at him and stares for a moment, before his face softens and he nods. Bruce steps out of the doorway to allow the boy space to get out. Jason closes the door behind him, Bruce locks the car, and then grabs the backpack he’d previously set atop the vehicle. He picks a random compartment to throw the fanny pack’s belongings into, before slinging it over his shoulder.</p>
<p>The trek across the dirt parking lot is silent between the two. Bruce chances a glance at the small boy by his side and sees his gaze laser focused on the bright, fast, and noisy scene beyond the approaching fence. It’s only mid-afternoon, so the sun is still bright enough to dull the lights, but the music is growing louder as they approach and Bruce is glad he’d preemptively taken something for the inevitable headache.</p>
<p>They make it through security with ease. As planned, neither the metal detectors nor security notice any of the various gadgets he’s carrying. He shoots a wink to Jason and the boy rolls his eyes with a huff, but his lips twitch in the telling of a suppressed smile. He places a hand between the boy’s shoulders and it’s a sign of progress when he doesn’t flinch at the touch—or maybe he’s just too engrossed in the new sights around him to notice—and guides him to a spot out of the traffic of the crowd.</p>
<p>“Wait here” he commands, but without the edge that would accompany a field command. Jason gives an absent nod anyway and Bruce steps away to the ticket booth. The amount he purchases has the attendant doing a double-take, but Bruce is simply being prepared. Dick’s favorite part of the fair had always been the rides and the first few times Bruce had found himself making multiple trips to the ticket booth.</p>
<p>Jason is thankfully still where Bruce left him when he returns, wide eyes still taking in his surroundings. “So, what’s first, son?”</p>
<p>Jason points to a nearby food booth. “Food.”</p>
<p>Bruce thinks of the packed lunch from Alfred sitting in the backpack: turkey sandwiches, veggie chips, and a couple juice boxes. “Jay-”</p>
<p>“<em>Please</em>?” He turns his pleading eyes toward Bruce. Dick’s puppy face had been wide blue eyes filled with innocence and a quivering lip. Jason’s is a raised brow, clenched jaw, and gaze that is clearly prepared for a stern “no.” Both looks cause an odd ache in Bruce’s chest.</p>
<p>He thinks of the other day when Jason had admitted to having never been to the fair. He thinks of how the young boy had gotten immediately defensive, explaining the reason away as the grounds simply being too far out of the city to travel on foot. Alfred had saved Bruce from any potential floundering, suggesting Bruce take a day off and accompany Jason to the fair on a week day, so that it would be less crowded. The look the butler had sent Bruce over Jason’s shoulder told him it was more an order than a suggestion, though Bruce hadn’t had a problem with the idea to begin with.</p>
<p>“Alright” he acquiesces. “Just don’t tell Alfred.” Jason grins victoriously and dashes away toward the booth. Bruce follows at a slower pace, glad his height makes it easier for him to keep an eye on the boy as he darts through the crowd. By the time he reaches the booth, Jason is staring at the menu with intense concentration and the attendant is staring at Jason with a small, amused grin.</p>
<p>“I’ll have a corndog” Jason announces after another moment. “And a <em>Coke</em>. Uh, large, please.”</p>
<p>The attendant glances at Bruce and he thinks he should probably downgrade that <em>Coke</em> to a small, but Jason’s pleading eyes are still fresh in his mind. He clears his throat. “I’ll have a pretzel. No salt.” Jason lets out a huff, as if he’s personally affronted by Bruce’s choice of food.</p>
<p>It’s not long before their food is handed to them and Bruce’s brows nearly climb into his hair at the sight of Jason’s corndog. It’s nearly a big as the young boy’s head and the drink isn’t really any smaller. Jason takes a bite and Bruce glances to see the bite isn’t even large enough to reach the hotdog Bruce assumes is in the middle. He winces, picturing Alfred’s disapproving gaze, but Jason is grinning like he won some grand prize, so he withholds comment and simply eats his incredibly boring pretzel.</p>
<p>Jason’s done with the ridiculous corndog by the time Bruce finishes his pretzel and it’s not long after his soda is empty and he’s just slurping up air and vaguely soda-flavored melted ice. Jason tosses the remains of his meal in an overflowing trashcan and goes to wipe his face with his sleeve, but Bruce is already sticking a napkin into his face before he can finish the gesture. Jason grins sheepishly and takes the offered napkin.</p>
<p>“Next?” Bruce questions casually, even as he eyes the boy and wonders, not for the first time, just where all that food managed to go. Jason crumples the napkin, tosses it at the trashcan where it bounces off the other trash and lands at the base of the can.</p>
<p>“Rides” the boy says decidedly.</p>
<p>Bruce raises a skeptical brow. “You just ate. A lot.”</p>
<p>“Rides” Jason insists, already taking off. Bruce just sighs and allows a brief, fond smile, before following.</p>
<p>The ride Jason chooses is a small rollercoaster. Bruce hands Jason a ticket and then steps to the side, knowing it would be a bit too much of a squeeze for him to fit into a seat. He watches as Jason chooses the last cart and can’t help a small smile. Earlier, he’d advised Jason that perhaps aside from the front seat, the last one was actually the roughest one to be in. Leave it to Jason to forgo the easier middle seats for his first rollercoaster.</p>
<p>The ride starts and Bruce watches as it climbs up to the top of the track—they’ve ran across rooftops much higher than the track so he’s not particularly worried about Jason getting scared. He watches the first couple loops of the ride, before pulling out his phone to glance at his emails. There’s nothing urgent there, nothing requiring his immediate response, so he pockets the phone once more and glances up to see the ride has stopped and Jason is-</p>
<p>Jason is nowhere to be seen.</p>
<p>Bruce blinks and his brow pinches. He tells himself there would be more of a ruckus happening if a child had fallen off the rollercoaster. Unless no one had noticed- He has to remind himself that Jason is not a typical child, that he knows how to take care of himself better than most adults. No, he shouldn’t panic. Not <em>yet</em>.</p>
<p>Bruce scans the crowd, spots the familiar back of a boy as he darts around to the backside of a fun house. He follows after him at a brisk pace, trying not to attract any extra attention but also not wanting to lose track of the boy he knows can be quite fast when he wants. When he rounds the fun house, he’s relieved to see Jason still there, back to him and shoulders hunched.</p>
<p>“What happened?” he asks. There’s no response, just Jason suddenly going more rigid. Bruce reaches him and he smells it then, so he’s not surprised when he steps around to face the boy to see a streak of vomit soaked into his shirt. Bruce grimaces in sympathy. He takes in the rest of Jason—the rest of his clothes appear clean thankfully—and searches for any other signs of illness. He does not appear pale or clammy, though. Rather, he’s red and avoiding Bruce’s gaze like Bruce is the one with heat vision. He’s embarrassed, Bruce surmises.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry!” Jason blurts after Bruce makes the mistake of letting the silence stretch for too long. Bruce takes in this response, noting the defensive posture of Jason’s shoulders and the way his eyes flit about as if looking for an escape. Bruce realizes with a pang that not only is Jason embarrassed, he’s scared. It’s a difficult thing to see after all these months, but Bruce knows he must be patient with the boy. Over a decade of trauma can’t be washed away just like that, no matter how much Bruce wished it could be for Jason.</p>
<p>“I’ll pay for the shirt!” Jason continues, but then his face scrunches, probably thinking about his lack of funds and Bruce realizes distantly he should consider starting Jason on some sort of allowance. At the forefront, though, he realizes he should actually speak.</p>
<p>Bruce sighs, lets the backpack slip off his shoulder and into his hand before setting it on the ground. “Alfred is definitely finding out now.” Jason’s gaze finally meets Bruce’s and there’s a hint of confusion there. Bruce removes his jacket and hands it to the boy. “Throw away that shirt and put this on.”</p>
<p>Jason’s eyes flickers between Bruce and the jacket, hesitating. “But the shirt’s new.”</p>
<p>Bruce shrugs. “We’ll buy a new one.” That’s not exactly the right thing to say, because Jason’s now glaring at him, but at least the fire is back in his eyes. Bruce would much rather see that stubborn flare than the frightened uncertainty that had been directed at him just a moment ago. After a moment of further hesitation, Jason snatches the jacket and quickly swaps it out with his ruined shirt. It dwarfs the twelve-year-old, a stark reminder of just how <em>small</em> Jason is. Jason must take notice as well, as he tries valiantly to stuff the ends into his pants for a moment before giving up and letting it hang inches above the floor.</p>
<p>Once Jason finally seems settled enough, Bruce bends to pick up the backpack once more and say as casually as he can: “So, do you feel up to more rides, or should we play some games next?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jason chooses the Ferris wheel as their last activity before heading home. The sun has just dipped below the horizon and as they slowly rise above the rest of the ground, Bruce watches the boy instead of the scenery. He’s scarfing down a fried twinkie Bruce had relented on and the bright lights of the fair are reflecting off of them and the higher they get, the quieter it becomes. Bruce takes advantage of the lack of noise.</p>
<p>“Did you enjoy yourself, son?”</p>
<p>Jason nods, shoves the last bite of twinkie into his mouth, and says around his mouthful: “Yeah!” Bruce feels a tension he hadn’t entirely been aware of carrying ease, but then Jason swallows his food and suddenly his face is serious, questioning. “Hey, Bruce?”</p>
<p>"Hm?”</p>
<p>“Y’know all those farm animals they got down there? Like that rabbit I held or the cow that farted on you?”</p>
<p>Bruce grimaces at the memory. “Yes?”</p>
<p>“Are people going to <em>eat</em> them?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>also on <a href="https://bxtgrl.tumblr.com/post/633703661627965440/blinded-by-the-lights">tumblr</a>. &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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